Quite Possibly A Little Deluded
by thousandmonkeys
Summary: In an experimental staging of the famed Phantom of the Opera, Kaneki Ken is Christine Daae. And he seems to have attracted the attention of a jealous admirer–much like the woman he plays. Phantom of the Opera/Actors AU, of a sort.


TGExchange

PROLUGUE—Overture

"_Do you know which actor is playing the Phantom?" _

"_Oh, I heard it's a good to honest _count!_ A real philanthropist."_

"_Really?"_

"_Oh yes! He donated a good sum to the theatre for the role, or so they say." _

"_No, no, that can't be it. Titled men wouldn't deign to act in the theatre. It must the true phantom!"_

"_You idiot. Have you been reading those cheap paperbacks again? It's probably a marketing ploy." _

"_Speaking of marketing, how well do you think an all-male cast is going to go over? Even if we _are _an Elizabethan troupe—how the hell is Kaneki Ken suited to the role of Christine?"_

ACT I:

i) Think of Me

Far below, a lone figure on the empty stage, the dark-haired man was singing again. His clear, unwavering, voice filled the auditorium as if there was an audience that he, and he alone could see.

Up in one of the many alcoves, a masked figure—probably trespassing, given the time of night—slid silently out from behind a heavy curtain. No click of heels nor shuffling of feet heralded his approach. The theater's sheer height made it easy for the man to observe, unseen; the reverse, too, applied. The singer was no more than a dark blot on the stage, stark against the pale wood.

Tsukiyama hummed, drumming his fingers in annoyance as the music abruptly stopped, and narrowed his eyes to better see the lone figure on stage.

Kaneki Ken. Newest tenor of the theater troupe, and placed into the unenviable position of Christine Daaé –if only because of the alleged curse on the position. Some places spoke of the Scottish Play as taboo; this troupe in particular had never performed the Phantom of the Opera in its short existence.

Apparently the one time the establishment had tried to host it, there was a disaster involving frogs, broken lighting, and repeated visits to the hospital.

And the distraction, sauntering in with an easy gait—that must be the actor meant to play Raoul. Fair-haired and a smile so wide that Tsukiyama himself could almost see it, never mind the binoculars.

From the familiarity that the two were displaying—it seemed like the pair knew each other. How…_fortunate_. Theatrical, almost.

Maybe this opera would turn out better than the others.

ii) Angel of Music

"_Hey Kaneki…" _

"_Touka! I thought you went out for dinner…?"_

"_I did—and I came back. It's almost eleven."_

"_Oh."_

"_Look, I know how important the performance is to you, but you got to eat, too. Why are you so worked up about this production? It's not like the first one you've been in."_

"_Well, my music teacher was a huge, _huge _fan of the play. Hell, he might've wanted to train a Christine Daaé of his own."_

"_Hm. Sounds shady. What's his name?"_

"_Yeah, he is—only ever came around when mum was away. I don't actually remember his name…"_

"_Must've been a strange guy…Still, I brought food. Want some?"_

"_Yeah, thanks."_

iii) Little Lotte

The overly opulent dressing room, courtesy of the building's heritage, was largely deserted now; maybe two, maybe three understudies—

"I haven't seen you for some time now, you know!"

And Hide. Of course.

Groaning, Kaneki swiveled the chair to face his best friend. "I just saw you five hours ago," he pointed out. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, mischief sparking. "Were you going to invite me to dinner or something? Picking up method acting?"

Hide rose, arms spread wide. "I am the great Viscount—"

"Vimcomte. Paris, remember."

"Fine, fine. Vimcomte Raoul de Chagny! I am rich and pretentious and two-dimentional! Fall into my arms, Christine!"

Despite himself, the dark haired boy laughed, rising to punch the other in the shoulder. "Oh god, you don't have the right to speak. It's not like _you _haven't played a girl's role before."

"Well, I don't have the right damsel in distress face for it. You, on the other hand…" Hide paused, letting the sentence dangle in the air with the gravity of a thousand unsaid words.

His only response from his counterpart: "You ass."

iv) The Mirror

Kaneki all but collapsed into a comfortable armchair, and frowned. Flowers generally didn't get sent to his room mmediately. Unless—

Oh. That note.

_How much do you love the theatre?_

_ \- G_

He groaned as he remembered the reply; it was written after a giddy opening night, but still. Even for a mildly intoxicated letter, it had been uncharacteristically forward.

_Thank you for the flowers, but they aren't the best thing for hay fever. Maybe you should save your money for theatre tickets?_

_\- Kaneki Ken_

Nothing compared to the weird—and mildly creepy—reply, slipped into, of all things, the dressing room mirror.

_Ah sweet Christine, I have watched over your nebulous star since it first started to glow, on this very stage. _

_ \- G_

_Mysterious patron of mine: my name's Kaneki Ken. I _play_ Christine. Are you alright?_

_\- Kaneki Ken_

He'd not received anything since them—but the flowers kept arriving. Every night, without fail.

Until:

_Come to the back alley, tonight. Congratulations are in order._

_ \- G_

v) The Phantom of the Opera

"You're awfully unimpressive for a man so wealthy."

Of everything the elder man had expected—he hadn't expected such a calm reaction. His mask marked him as either hideously deformed—or a ghoul; and to an ordinary human like his current fascination, both should've been the stuff of nightmares.

He'd caught a strange one, indeed.

vi) The Music of the Night 

"_Wait—so you're the same actor that I've been acting with every night? The mysterious Erik, the Phantom that people keep sending endless bouquets too? _

"_Why yes!"_

"_And what's to stop me from telling the world?"_

"_Ah but you wont. You can't. Call it what you may—but you know that you will inevitably, irrepressibly—be drawn to me." _

vii) I Remember…

A DREAM: _My child…you shouldn't have been born. You won't remember _any _of this, I would hope. Else…your father might pay a visit and only god may save our souls then._

viii) Stranger Than You Dreamt It

"Why me? Why not any other opera singer?"

The anger in that _voice_—more than ever, the older man felt himself drawn to the young tenor singer. Tsukiyama hummed, a hand brushing over his half-mask as if to reassure himself that it was still there; it kept the worse traces of the back alley's stink away, ant the heady scent of the other boy covered the rest.

"To…_taste _you." Dear god, he smelled good.

"…You've gone _mad_. I won't hear any of this," the target of his interest snapped, folding his arms. A strange, and somehow fitting, bravado was clear in his voice; so he wasn't _stupid_. That was good to know. Mental acuity certainly did make everything taste better—

Except that wasn't what Tsukiyama was here for, after all. He'd almost forgotten. "What am I?" he asked, circling the other boy, and blocking out the scene from the casual passerby.

"A ghoul," Kaneki answered, voice flat. "It doesn't take a genius to figure that much out."

"Good, good. And what are _you?_"

"Human!" the other snapped, with a ferocity that only heightened the elder man's appreciation.

"Liar~" Tsukiyama sang, and shook his head. "You don't think that would've fooled me?"

"Well, I don't know what you want for an answer, but I've never eaten any—anything _you _would eat." _Monster_, was the unsaid accusation, and the younger boy's fists bunched in agitation.

"The drive to eat flesh is the domain of the nobility, silly child. And well—although you mother may have been no more than a common worker, your father...well, that's a different matter," he declared, with all the drama of a trained actor.

Struck a nerve there, he would've thought; but the younger boy only shook his head, backing away. "I'm not. I'll call the police on you."

"Ah, but _I—_I am the only one that knows you for who you are, Kaneki Ken. Now go, back to your little play. Your little existence—when it's clearly not _enough_ for you," he drawled.

And it would never be; of course, the younger boy wouldn't admit it yet, or perhaps ever, but he was patient. He could wait.

"Just—just go away for now. I'll…think about it. Alright? Now go, _go_."

ix) Magical Lasso

"_Our very own mysterious patron! Fancy that; looks like the play is cursed, after all." _

"…_Sir manager. You called?"_

"_So, Mr. Stagehand. You've been here—no need to be so stiff, man, here, sit, do sit— since the building was erected; ever heard of this "Phantom" who seems to have confused fantasy and stone cold reality?"_

"_Ah, I heard a story. Of course, I can't say how true it is, but then—"_

"_Tell us, tell us! All the better to break the illusion Mr. Phantom has tried to pull over our eyes."_

"_Have you ever heard of ghouls, sir?"_

"_Aren't they a children's fairytale, meant to explain the various…degenerations of the nobility?"_

_The Phantom is said to be a ghoul, sir. A mask like a half-moon and a face like a devil's, his voice is finer than any other—but his soul is rotten, darker than his heritage, darker than his nature._

_Ah? _

_Yes, yes._

_And what does this Phantom want?_

_Sir manager, that—only God would know. _

x) Notes…

"_Hide. What if I told you that there was a man in the production that wants to sabotage everything, kidnap me, and murder half the cast to get to it?"_

_"Wow, that method acting book sounds really…interesting. Lend it to me?"_

"_It sure is."_

xi) Prima Donna

_I thought it—I merely thought it poetic, dramatic—you do love the theater, do you not—that I should take the role of the phantom. Think of it as a personal favour. Aft all: You can't hide from you heritage forever, you know._

_ \- G_

xii) Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh

"_Wow, have you heard the latest? Apparently they're auctioning off the original costumes of the Phantom of the Opera premiere—and they found actual bloodstains on the dresses!"_

xiii) Why Have You Brought Me Here/Raoul, I've Been There.

Hide looked up from his close examination of the floor, shaking his head. "Sorry, Kaneki, but it's been too long. Somebody walked over it, and then a horse cart went through here, and the only thing I can find is straw. No fabric, no nothing. Why, what did the guy tell you?" He arched a brow. "You seem…off."

"The guy, the guy—the guy you're talking about is the same actor playing the phantom. Right next to you on stage, I might remind you." Despite himself, Kaneki knew that his voice was getting higher and higher with the panic, and the memory of what the familiar stranger had told him. "Don't you want to know if he was planning on eating us all?"

"Did he tell you that?" Incredulity coloured Hide's voice, and, chuckling, he stood up. "That's surprisingly honest of him."

"No he just—he just talked about ghouls. He said I'm one. I'm _not _one." Kaneki's eyes widened and he shook his head fervently. "You don't believe him, do you?"

"It depends."

xiv) All I Ask Of You

"_Let's go on a holiday."_

"_Yes, lets. We don't need the money from this theater anyways."_

"_Well, we do but—"_

"_Scheduled holiday? We all know what happened to Christine Daaé and Raoul, and I don't know about you, but I don't wanna buy a toy monkey when I'm in my eighties. First, they're creepy. Second, that would just be—sad."_

"_True." _For a moment, Kaneki wondered what it would've been like to accept the ghoul's offer; maybe that would cure him of the ever-present hunger gnawing away at his insides. Maybe it would've been easier.

"_So, what do you say?"_

Thank god for Hide.

"_Hm. Sounds good."_

xv) All I Ask Of You (Reprise)

Disappointment; that was the first. Bitter, the desire for a peer—one that would appreciate the fine arts, somebody his equal—had been ever-present in the ghoul's mind. Blood and gore was all very good, but it never changed. His fellows were—crude, in a sense.

Annoyance; that was the second. Although perhaps that was his own fault; the production of the Phantom had never been kind to the monster in question. And who knew his target had a childhood friend, even?

Dramatic irony, at its very, _very_ best.

And who knew what the third was? After all, Tsukiyama Shuu had never been the spurned lover. And he never intended to be.

He was patient; he could wait; or at least that was what he told himself. And as for Kaneki Ken's little play at humanity, at being so much less than he was—a lion masquerading as a rat, really—it would all fall. Whether that was into place, or apart, the flamboyantly dressed man couldn't say.

But still: the younger man simply wouldn't be able to–help himself.

Eventually.


End file.
